Marriage of True Minds
by Dali2theLlamasquared
Summary: I swear, I'll get another chapter up on this one! I just have to find where I put the last bits of information...hang it all! Where did I put my outline of chapter 8!
1. Cryptic Messages

"Holmes, could you please be to the point for once?"

"I think you must be mistaking me for Mahmound."

"Holmes, shut up!"

"Russell! And in front of the children!"

"Shut up! Shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up..."

"Okay! I've got the idea!"

"Amazing!"

"I love you too, honey!"

"Stop being so ridiculous!"

"How am I being ridiculous, pray tell?" He was acting so innocent. Too innocent.

"Okay, Holmes; what case are we on now?"

"_We_ are not on a case."

"We must be on a case. Look at yourself!"

"What? I grew longer sideburns. Do you happen to have a problem with that?"

"And you also grew a goatee and dyed your hair and packed a bag and have a pistol in your pants pocket and..."

"The goatee I thought you'd like. The dye is covering my gray, if you must know. The bag is packed because I thought about taking two of the children on a little trip with me. The pistol is for a bit of an experiment I'd like to try before we leave. And we are not going on a case."

"Yes, we are. Mrs. Hudson can take care of the children, Uncle John can help..."

"No. The last time we did that..."

"Okay, so Watson isn't the most brilliant man in the world when it comes to taking care of children. He has too much of a soft spot. It's to be expected. Just Mrs. Hudson, then."

"She may be long-suffering, as Watson so put it, but I am not quite sure she would survive with the children alone."

"Then Mycroft..."

"Ho! He's worse than Watson!"

"Well, then, you leave me no choice...I'm calling Sher..."

"NO! You are not calling Sherringford! he's worse than Mycroft and Watson combined!"

"Your oldest brother can't be that bad!"

"I suggest you not to even have any thought about Sherringford, let alone call him and ask him to take care of the children because he won't have to! You and Mrs. Hudson will."

"Holmes, I am going on that case."

"You don't even know anything about it yet!"

"Then tell me."

"And for what reason?"

"When I am on a case, I like to know what the case is about, first."

"Well, then, you won't be going on a case through me for a while."

"Then I'll find out some other way." Mrs. Mary Judith Russell Holmes (called Russell by her husband) stormed out of the house she shared with Mr. William Scott Sherlock Holmes (known as Holmes by his wife). They lived in a cottage on the Sussex Downs with four children: quadruplets. The children's names were Judith Renee Holmes, David Matthew Holmes, Violet Mary Holmes, and Jonathan Mycroft Holmes. They year was 1924, the children being not but two years old.

The day was cloudless. Except for the heavy cloud that hung over Mary's head as she stormed out of the house. She was determined to find out what Holmes was up to. She walked the Downs a while, leting the quietness of the wideness around her calm her temper. Her cloud became smaller as she walked, soon dissipating into nothingness. She was still determined to find out what Holmes' case was about, though. So, she walked back to the cottage to see if she could call Holmes' brother, Mycroft.

She stepped through the front door to find three of her children waiting for her. "What is it, darlings? Where's David?" she asked them. She let them lead her to the kitchen, through the whole house, up and down the stairs a few times, then to Holmes and her bedroom, where David laid, asleep, on the bed. Next to him was a note. She had seen a similar message before. It said:

R, 

Find me.

H

PS--By the time you get this, I'm not in Sussex.

"Well, at least he gave me a post script," muttered Russell to herself as she looked at her children crowded around her. She said to them, "Children, Mommy's going on a trip for a while, okay? I'll be back really soon. Uncle Mycroft and Uncle John will be coming to stay with you while I'm gone."

When she mentioned their uncles' names, the children clapped their hands and giggled. They knew they'd be spoiled with Mycroft and Dr. John Watson. 

Russell left them to go talk to Mrs. Hudson. Mrs. Hudson, Holmes' landlady while keeping apartments at 221B Baker Street, was a woman that knew just about anything to do with domestic life. That is why she accepted Holmes' offer as housekeeper for him when he decided to move to Sussex as an early retirement fromthe detective business. Anyway, she's probably the only woman in England who could take care of his house.

Russell found Mrs. Hudson in the kitchen, making tea. "Hello, Mrs. Hudson," said Russell. "Have you seen Holmes lately?"

"Oh, not really. The last time I saw him was this morning. He asked me to leave you a message."

"Oh, really?" said Russell, her interest piqued. "What did he say?"

"He just told me to tell you this: The girl with the strawberry curls danced off into the night on the Downs."

"He told me a few other things, but said I cannot say them until tomorrow."

"I see; well, then, Mrs. Hudson, could you please pour me a cup of that wonderful-looking tea?"

Russell took the teacup from Mrs. Hudson's hands and left for the garden outside. She sipped her tea as she watched her children playing outside. She thought to herself, _I wonder if Ali told Holmes about the "Strawberry Blonde" song when they were in Palestine? I suppose so. Now, it must mean I am to be in the Downs tonight. I'll bring along some things with me_.

She stood up and left for her room. The children followed her.

The rest of the day went by smoothly until right before the children's bedtime. "Mom, is Daddy gonna read?" asked Judith. Holmes would always read the children a story before they went to bed. 

"I'm sorry, Judith, but Daddy's not able to read you a story tonight. Can I read you one?"

"Sure, Mommy."

So, Russell read them the story about Hansel and Grettle because the children seemed to be tending to wander off lately. The story soon ended. The children were nestled into bed as Russell walked into the bedroom she shared with Holmes. She changed and got into bed, thinking about tomorrow's adventure as she fell asleep.


	2. Midnight Meeting

Dear Reader,

****

If you have never read the Mary Russell series by Laurie R. King, please read this!

Here is an explanation of who this character is:

Mary Russell is a feminist of the 1920's that is apprentice, partner, and later wife of the illustrious Sherlock Holmes. She is a rambunctious young woman with lots of energy and is a match of wits for Sherlock Holmes. She is witty and very strong-willed, but is not foolish because of pride. She is the perfect match for a man like Holmes.

Mycroft Holmes and Sherringford Holmes (who you will meet in the course of this story) are the brothers of Sherlock Holmes. Sherringford is the oldest one, but is the most unlike his brother. In other words, he is so naive that he makes Watson look like the most brilliant man in the world. Mycroft, on the other hand, is slightly smarter than Sherlock. Also, there is a feud between Sherringford and Sherlock about names: Sherringford hates to be called Sherry, and Holmes hates to be called Sherlock.

The children:

David Matthew Holmes: The first born of the quadruplets, he is very headstrong and clever. He is very egotistic and hates to be wrong.

Judith Renee Holmes: The second born of the quadruplets, she is very smart and intellectual with a good head on her shoulders. She is the know-it-all and always seems to be right.

Jonathan Mycroft Holmes: The third born of the quadruplets, he is extremely likable and very kind. He is the compassionate one and has a very imaginative mind. He's the one that comes up with the stories to tell when they're in a jam.

Violet Mary Holmes: The last born of the quadruplets, she is the one that always gets her way. She has perfected the art of fake crying and has the cutest face. She is very clever and smart, knowing the most about a person's personality just by looking at their face and demeanor. 

Dear LA~,

Here is an explanation to Holmes' portrayal in this story: (taken from the Author's Note in The Beekeeper's Apprentice by Laurie R. King.)

"I can only say that they [Holmes fanatics] are right: The Holmes I met was indeed a different man from the detective of 221B Baker Street. He had been ostensibly retired for a decade and a half, and was well into his middle age. More than this, however, had changed: The world was a different place from that of Victoria Regina. Automobiles and electricity were replacing hansom cabs and gaslights, the telephone was nosing its obtrusive self into the lives even of the village people, and the horrors of war in the trenches were beginning to eat at the very fabric of the nation.

I think, however, that even if the world had not changed and even if I had met Holmes as a young man, my portraits of him would still be strikingly different from those painted by the good Dr. Watson. Watson always saw his friend Holmes from a position of inferiority, and his perspective was always shaped by this. Do not get me wrong--I came to have a considerable affection for Dr. Watson. However, he was born an innocent, slightly slow to see the obvious (to put it politely), although he id come to possess a not inconsiderable wisdom and humanity.

So, yes, I freely admit that my Holmes is not the Holmes of Watson. To continue with the analogy, my perspective, my brush technique, my use of colour and shade, are all entirely different from his. The subject is essentially the same; it is the eyes and the hands of the artist that change."

Thank you very much for reading this!!!!!!!

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Disclaimer: The characters belong to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and Laurie R. King, except for the children and for Alexia Houston, who you will meet later on.

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She was tired. Dead tired. She had set her alarm for eleven. She got up, turning the alarm clock off as she got out of bed. She had not changed out of her clothes to sleep, letting herself get up and splash cold water on her face. Wiping the water off her face, she adjusted her glasses on her face and noticed her revolver was out on the bedside table. _He never forgets a thing_, she thought to herself as she crept down the stairs in her stockings, carrying her boots in her hand. She carried her electric torch in her right hand, her revolver in her pants picket. (A/N: An electric torch is another way to say flashlight in England...right?)

She checked on the children; they were all snug in their tiny little beds, sleeping peacefully. Mrs. Hudson was still asleep. The house was totally silent except for the quiet breathing of sleeping people.

The floorboards creaked as she slipped silently into the kitchen. She could feel the cold tile through her socks as she walked towards the back door. She was about to open the back door when she saw something out of the corner of her eyes. It was small, but not unnoticeable; it shone brilliantly in the moonlight. She walked to the counter and picked it up. It was a very small little ball made of a shiny metal; it looked very much like gold.

She turned the lights of the kitchen on, the ball of gold in her hand. She inspected it closely. It was a small ball, fitting easily in the palm of her hand. It was very smooth, a perfect sphere. There wasn't a scratch or mark on the golden ball. She marveled at it for a bit, then pocketed it into her light coat she put on. She turned off the kitchen light and exited through the back door, locking it with her key from the outside.

She sighed, looking out into the cloudless night. The sky was filled with stars, twinkling down on the earth. The moon was full that night. She breathed deeply, letting the night engulf her in a calming lull.

Her silent bubble burst and she came out of her reverie when she heard a rustling in the bushes next to her. She turned toward the sound abruptly, fingering her revolver in her pocket. She tensed, drawing the revolver from its hiding place. She saw the bushes move again. Then, she saw...a rabbit, munching on the shrub. She let out her breath she had been holding and smiled in relief. She put her revolver back in her pocket, made sure her throwing knife was in the slot in her boot, and shooed the rabbit off, mentally telling herself to find a way to keep animals from eating the shrubs.

She kept walking towards the Downs, wondering if she actually needed to dance. She decided that it would be best to just wait until she got nearer.

As she walked, she thought about her family. Not about her mother and father and brother, but of her family now: Holmes and the children. She thought about how hard it was, but the delights that come with it. She reminisced on the time she had had the children; it was long, painful, but wonderful in many different ways. She spent less time in Oxford now and much more with her children; Holmes also had spent less time on his work and instead concentrated on the children.

Her reverie was grabbed away from her when she noticed the presence of a tree not but three inches from the tip of her nose. She noticed she was not twenty feet from the Downs. She remembered the words Holmes had told Mrs. Hudson: "The girl with the strawberry curls danced off into the night on the Downs." She was soon drawn to the thought that, just possibly, she might have waited too long. What if they had waited and already gone, deciding she wasn't coming? Should she have left earlier? What was Holmes up to, at any rate? _Well,_ she decided, _I'm not getting far by merely speculating._ She straightened her tall frame, rubber her eyes to make sure she was fully awake, and started to dance onto the Downs.

As she danced, she thought to herself, _Oh, God! I feel like such an idiot!_ But, soon, as she kept dancing deeper and deeper into the Downs, she suddenly felt aware of a presence, a feeling of, almost, danger lurking in the shadows. She pushed he thought away, but from then on kept out a wary eye.

"Glad you could make it." She stopped dead in her tracks. The voice behind her was quiet, cool, stern. "Though I didn't expect you to dance so well out here." The voice clapped its hands slowly, mockingly. "Don't turn around, my dear. Stand right where you are." She stood, hardly breathing, going through her head, trying to remember the voice. She had heard it before, but where?

"It's nice to see you again, Mary. It's been quite a long time. It has been, what, twelve years since we last have seen each other?"

A scene flashed through Russell's head: A girl a year older than her stood in front of her. Only, the girl was fifteen. She herself was fourteen. The girl had wavy black hair and large coal black eyes that looked into her blue ones. They were filled with anger, remorse, pleading, and rage. Then, the girl grabbed her by the arms, shaking her body, shouting at her. Mary could see herself respond by wrenching her arms from the girl's grasp and slapping her face. The black-haired girl lunged at Russell. Mary retaliated, clawing at the girl. They were rolling in the grass, in the dead of night. Suddenly, the girl stopped. Mary did also. The girl then took off into the night, but not without leaving something behind: a thin, silky scarf, made up of thread of shiny gold.

Russell had wondered who the girl was. Why had she done such a thing to her? Was this her?

"What do you want?" asked Russell, trying to hide her doubt and fear from her voice.

"Answers," said the voice.

"To what?"

"The accident." Russell's heart stopped beating. Her breath was gone. She remembered the accident well: it took her father' life, her mother's life, her brother's life. And, because she had kept her father from looking at the road, they were dead. All because of her.

She also remembered the other car. There was another car that hit her family's car, sending them off the cliff. She couldn't remember anything about the people in the other car, absolutely nothing.

She let the pieces fall in place. "It was my fault. I am very sorry, but it was an accident. My father looked away from the road because he was scolding me. But I can't help that. I'm truly sorry for what I've done, even tried to kill myself. But it's the past now. All we both can do is leave the past be and go on with our lives."

There was silence after Mary's speech, and then, "Miss Russell, I cannot forget what I lived through. It is impossible for me to put those memories behind me. My family died, too, in that accident. My father. My mother had died right after giving birth to me. My father was all I had left. I had no family. I was forced into obedience in an orphanage. I had nothing except a few things: my pictures, my memories, and my scarf with the golden balls. I had that little fight with you a while back; I had to vent my anger, and, because you had been involved, you because the one I pinned it on. I left there a golden scarf. I wore it the day of the accident. I took the golden balls off the edges and put them on a string, wearing them always.

"I have been waiting for this moment for a long time, Mrs. Holmes. I've been wanting to tell you how much pain I've felt and how lonely I've been. How I have suffered so much and have lost so much. All because of you." Russell now had started a cold sweat, feeling her stomach turn into an icy pit inside her body.

The woman continued. "Now, turn around." Russell turned around. The woman's face was outlined by the reflections of the moon: Her outline was lovely, beautiful, even, but in a cold, rigid way. "We stand face to face. Mrs. Mary Judith Holmes, pleas follow me." Russell really didn't know exactly what was going on, but felt herself pulled along as she followed the woman out of the Downs and back to Russell's house. (Also, the woman had a gun in her hand.)

"The not was from you," stated Russell.

"Yes."

"Where's Holmes?"

"Not in Sussex."

"I did not ask you where he is not, but where he is."

"In Europe, if you must know."

"Where in Europe?"

"Austria."

"Why?"

"My, my, my! He doesn't tell his wife much, does he? He's on a case, if you so insist an answer from me."

"And the message to Mrs. Hudson...?

"Was not actually said, but written by me in his handwriting."

"How do you know so much..."

"About your life? Simplicity itself." Her tone was mocking now. "That Watson of your Holmes isn't the brightest fellow in the world, is he? Well, he is a very close acquaintance of mine; we have become quite good friends, actually. Maybe you have heard him mention a certain Alexia Houston."

Russell's blood began to really boil. Watson had said so much about this girl named Alexia. He said how much he liked her, how he felt like he was going through the same things Holmes and Russell did long ago, before they were married.

"It was like being able to open the roof of your house and peek in every once in a while, as your Holmes put it before. It was the perfect way to do my work without actually doing anything but listen politely."

Russell could stand it no longer. "How could you do such a thing, all because of me?!"

Alexia stared at Russell, an icy cold stare. "I have been focusing on this moment for all of my life. This has been my life's dream."

Russell, letting this new information sink in, decided that this woman really needed some men in white to take her to a padded room with straight jackets. Right then, the woman cocked the revolver and pointed it at Russell, saying, "Take the revolver from your pocket and the knife from your boot." Russell obeyed, considering her opponent was holding a gun and pointing it at her head. The gun and knife were placed onto the floor gently.

"Very good. Now, go outside the back way. I will be right behind you." They went outside, Alexia following Russell closely. When they were outside, Alexia closed the door and they stood, face to face. Then, Alexia spoke.

"Now, I will drop my weapon, and we will commence the fight," she said, abruptly. At Russell's questioning look, she added, "And no, I have no other weapons upon my body or anywhere concealed in this garden. Do you accept?"

"And if I don't?"

"I'll just have to pull the trigger."

"Fine agreed."

Alexia put down her weapon. They looked at each other, wondering and measuring up their opponents. Alexia had the advantage of knowing Russell more than Russell knew of her, but Russell had her deductive advantage. Then, they went at each other. They found themselves in an all-out brawl, rolling on the earthen floor. (A/N: We will not go into detail due to the PG rating. Thank you.)

They found themselves, after about ten minutes, unable to fight. They had both been injured badly. Alexia was unconscious while Russell only semi-conscious. She was able to open the back door and drag herself into the kitchen, then dropped from utter exhaustion and the concussion about to follow.

Right then Mrs. Hudson ran into the kitchen because of all the noise. She let out a scream, seeing blood around Russell's body. She then tried to get Russell up off the floor, which she successfully did after a few minutes. She then called the local doctor, telling him to come immediately. She went back to Russell, who she had brought into the living room and had put on the couch. She went back into the kitchen to get some hot water and towels. She went back to the couch. Russell was starting to wake up. She groaned, trying to look at Mrs. Hudson. She murmured "Out...side..." then became unconscious again.

Mrs. Hudson rushed outside to find a young lady out on the lawn, covered in even more blood than Russell. She was still alive, but barely. Mrs. Hudson rushed to the phone and called for some nurses at the doctor's office to come, too. She dragged Alexia to the kitchen and laid her on the floor, not knowing what else to do.

The doctor came with nurses a few minutes later. Here are his conclusions: Russell had a concussion with a broken nose, right arm, left leg in two places, broken hip, and broken right leg in four places. Alexia sustained a major concussion with a slightly cracked skull, broken nose, broken arms and legs, and a dislocated left shoulder. They both had numerous bruises and cuts.

They soon were put into separate beds, both still unconscious. They slept the night, recuperating from their scars (and a few other things).

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Sorry if this one was too long. I didn't know how to say it without making it boring or whatever. Hope everyone liked it!!!!!! It's dramatic, I know. I usually do humour, but I decided it'd be nice to do something different, you know?

To all who reviewed: Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you! This story is dedicated to all of you who reviewed!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Reviews on this latest chapter are very very welcome, whether flamers or not!!!!!!!!!

Thanks! 


	3. Telegram

Here I am with chapter 3!!! Also, this story was started by me, Talons, but Stripe's helping me now. Actually, she doesn't start to help me until the next chapter, but, hey, it's close, isn't it? Hope you guys like it! Please please please please please please please please please please please please please please R&R!!!!! Much appreciated!

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Don't own the characters 'cept Alexia and the kids. On with the story!!!

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The room was quiet. She still hadn't woken up yet. Mrs. Hudson decided it was time to telegram Mr. Holmes.

She gave her telegram over th telephone, sent to...where? She didn't know! Now, who would know...Watson, surely, butshe didn't want to go through the chaos of that coming...Why, of course! She'd call Mycroft. He's the only one that can keep his wits about him. Except when it comes to children, that is...

She rang up Mycroft. "Hello? Mycroft?... Yes, I'm fine, and you? ... Good... Yes, Russell doesn't know where Holmes is...How is Russell? Oh, she hasn't woken up yet... Yes, she's very tired. She had a long night last night... Do you know where Holmes is? I need to send him a message... Actually, Mycroft, I need to tell him directly... Yes, it's very important... Mycroft, just give me his location!... Mycroft, I am not in the mood to get into an argument! I need to know where Holmes is... Please, Mycroft, just tell me where he is!... Austria? He isn't with Sherringford, is he?... No? Good... Where exactly in Austria?...Oh, all right... Thank you very much!" And before he could ask any more questions, she hung up on him. She put in her telegraph over the phone. "Yes, just a simple message... 'Russell's in trouble.'...Yes, that's it...send it to...Okay? Do you have the address? Good! Please send it immediately...Oh! Yes, just charge it on the Holmes account... Good-bye!" She hung up and checked on Alexia.

"I wonder who she is?" thought Mrs. Hudson. "Why is she here? Has she been unconscious all this time? How is she mixed up in this? Who is she?"

**********

"I wonder how Russell and the children are?" Holmes mused. "I had expected her to follow me. I suppose she decided to be prideful and not follow. Very well; it is better for her to take care of the children, anyhow." But he thought to himself, _This isn't like Russell. Where is she?_

**********

"When will Holmes get that telegram?" wondered Mrs. Hudson. She was taking care of the children while the nurses--the ones the doctor left--were taking care of the two women. She sighed, trying to answer he children's questions. "Where Mommy?" "Where Daddy?" "Don' see Mommy!" "Daddy? Daddy? I don' see Daddy!" "Gramma, where Daddy?" She loved the children calling her Grandma.

**********

THAT NIGHT

"Telegram for you, sir," said the maitre `d.

"Thank you," said Holmes. He picked the telegram up off of the platter and opened it. He read it, then stood up suddenly, cursing. He rushed out of the door, shoving some bills into the maitre `d's hand and ran out the door, forgetting his hat and coat.

He tried hailing a cab, but decided he'd be quicker on foot. He ran like a mad man, shoving (politely, of course) through the stream of people. Just imagine the scene: A man dressed like a dandy from a noble house running wildly down the sidewalks of Vienna, mumbling to himself.

He made it to the train station. He bought a ticket to Le Havre, France. Then, eh planned to take a boat from there to Portsmouth. "I never thought this would happen! All I tried to do was lead Russell to Vienna and have a nice, quiet journey! I just wanted to have a nice little vacation with her alone!" He boarded the train a few minutes later, the porter trying to figure out why this dandy had a British accent and not one bit of luggage.

**********

ALSO THAT NIGHT

"Hello, Mrs. Hudson! How are the children?" A large man walked through the doorframe. 

"Oh, Mycroft, good! I could use some help! Could you take Judith and David for a moment?"

"Why, of course, Mrs. Hudson! But where is Mary?"

"She's, ah, a bit indisposed today. She had a very long night last night and needs her rest."

"Hasn't she rested all day?"

"Oh, she did, but she's still so tired. She really needs a vacation."

"But..."

"Ah, well...ahem...she had a very tiring night last night."

"All right." He took Judith and David to play outside. He decided not to press the issue, knowing that Mrs. Hudson was much more than Watson had portrayed her as.

Mrs. Hudson was beginning to slowly go nuts. "When will Holmes get here?!" 

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Well, did you enjoy the chapter? I do hope so. Have a nice day! Hope you'll come back and read some more soon! Stop by and read some, okay? Please? Hope it's good for your standards! Hope you enjoyed! Please R&R!!! I really enjoy reviews, and they really give me ideas for more chapters!!! So, if you'd like to have me keep going, please review!!!!!!!!!!!!


	4. Sherringford Holmes

Here's chapter four! I do hope that everyone enjoyed the last chapter. I really have worked hard on these stories. I do hope you like them. I think you will enjoy this next chapter. You get to meet Sherringford Holmes. He is--dare I say it--nothing you could imagine in a Holmes. Yes, that is how you should put it.

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Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Sherlock Holmes characters or the Laurie R. King characters. I do own the children and Alexia Houston. Also, when Holmes uses an _alias, _he uses the name he used while staying in Minnesota. For more information, see The Ice Palace Murders or The Rune Stone Mystery, both written by Larry Millett.

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"Pardon me, sir. May I sit here?" It was the longest train ride Holmes had ever been on. Waiting for the next stop to bringing him closer to Russell, it was too much for him. He was trying to figure out what Russell had gotten herself into now when he was interrupted from his reverie. He looked at the man who had just asked the question. Holmes knew exactly who it was, unfortunately for him. Luckily, though, the man didn't know who _he_ was, though he was soon to find out.

Holmes nodded his consent. He forgot, though, that he had left the telegram from Mrs. Hudson crumpled on the seat. The man picked it up. "I have a sister-in-law named Russell. Actually, her name is Mary, but my brother, Sherlock, insists on calling her Russell."

"Really?" he said, in a high, almost squeaky, voice. "Interesting. I'm going to visit my Russell in La Havre."

"That's funny; I'm leaving from La Havre and taking a boat to go to England."

"Really? How interesting."

"See, I had this wonderful idea that I'd surprise my brother and Mary. You see, they have four children, and they love my help. They frequently ask for it, and I decided that I'd go before they'd ask."

"I'm sure," muttered Holmes. "So, they don't know that you're coming?"

"No."

"Oh, really? That is interesting. Pardon me, sir, but may I have the pleasure of knowing your name?"

"Of course! How rude of me! My name is Holmes, Sherringford Holmes."

"Why, it's a delight to meet you, Mr. Holmes. My name is John Baker."

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Baker. So, your friend, Russell..."

"Mr. Hendrick, really."

"Well, now, there seems to be some troubles with your friend. May I ask what?"

"Of course. You see..." Holmes elaborated on an extremely stupid and unbelievable story while Sherringford listened in rapt attention. It was the most ridiculous story Holmes had ever come up with on such short notice. Yet, Sherringford Holmes, being who he is, believed it whole-heartedly.

"...and that is why I am here with you on this train," finished Holmes.

"Amazing!" cried Sherringford. "I never knew there were kangaroos in England!"

"Yes, in the zoo. I didn't mention anything about kangaroos."

"Oh...yes, of course. Just commenting." 

"I have a suggestion. Call upon your family, warn them of your coming so they can prepare for you, wait a few days, or weeks even, and then come to them."

"Why, of course not! That would ruin all of the fun and surprise!"

__

Drat, thought Holmes.

**********

"Uncle Mycwoft?" asked Violet.

"Yes?"

"Can you take me to see Mummy?"

"Of course, honey! But maybe later. She's really tired right now."

"But...(sniff, sniff)...I really wanna see Mummy!" (Sad puppy eyes).

Mycroft fell for it. "Oh, all right, but only for a little bit. Actually, I'd like to see her, myself." They walked up the stairs, holding each other's hand. They walked towards Russell's room while talking about different things. They were stopped by Mrs. Hudson.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"To...Russell's room."

"Oh, really? I suppose you can go in, but it is not the right place for Violet to be in at the moment."

"Why?"

"Go look for yourself; it is more than words can say. Come, Violet. I'll go get you a biscuit. Does that sound good?"

"Well...okay..."

Mycroft did look. Afterwards, he wished he had not. She looked awful. Or, at least, what he could see of her. She was covered with numerous bandages, bruises, and cuts. It was not a pretty sight, to say the least. He looked at her, trying to see the bright, shining Mary he knew under all of the gauze on her face.

"Russell? Can you hear me?"

"She is unconscious, Mr. Holmes," said the nurse that had come up behind him. "I'm really truly sorry, sir. I've known Mary for a year or so; such a wonderful person she is, isn't she?"

"Very. My brother was very lucky when he got her."

"Of course. Do you know, were we but an half an hour later, she might have not made it through the night?" Mycroft did not respond to this comment. "Also, the other woman is still in a coma. We're still not sure when..."

"Wait. Other woman?"

"Why, yes." The nurse was shocked. She had thought he had known. "There's another woman in the room next to this one." Mycroft immediately pushed the nurse away and ran to the other room, moving very quickly for a man of his bulk.

He stepped into the other room. The woman he saw was familiar; he had seen her with Watson, walking down the street...this must be that woman he always talked about! What was her name! Alexia?

**********

"So...what do you do to keep yourself occupied?"

Holmes wasn't exactly sure how to answer this, so he responded very vaguely, "Well, I do a bit of shooting, some card-playing, and such."

"Really? I love to hunt!" _Oh no!_ thought Holmes. _He will be rambling on about his hunting for the remainder of this trip._

Luckily for him, the rest of the trip wasn't very long. Just extremely long. Yet, that was in his mind's eyes only. It wasn't as long as he supposed it was.

"Excuse me, sir, but may I ask you a question?" asked Holmes/Baker.

"Sure! What is it?"

"Is your brother..."

"Yes."

"But you didn't hear my question!"

"But I already know the answer. He is."

"Really?"

"Aye, he is."

**********

One of the nurses came into the room. "Mr. Holmes, I believe that Miss Russell may be waking up." Mycroft rushed past the nurse, forgetting about Alexia.

He barged into the room. She didn't look conscious. But, then, she moved her hand slightly. Her eyelids soon fluttered open. Mycroft was at her side in less than moments.

"Mycroft..."

"Russell. You okay?"

"Holmes?"

"He's still in Austria. He will be here soon. Are you okay? What happened?"

"Alexia..."

"What did she do?"

"Did...she..."

"Yes?" She did not respond. She closed her eyes again, slipping back into unconsciousness.

**********

"Well, it was nice to meet you, Sherringford. I must be off now."

"Oh, well, isn't that just too bad?"

"Yes, too bad," muttered Holmes, then dashing off.

**********

"Mr. Holmes, Mrs. Hudson is asking for you." He slowly got up from his position on the floor and slowly ambled down the stairs, waiting for Mrs. Hudson's wrath upon him.

"Mycroft! Mycroft!!!" He was in front of Mrs. Hudson now, four children hanging onto her. Soon, the children were clinging onto him.

"Why don't you take them outside and let them play? All you have to do is watch them." He decided he'd just go outside. So he did, with four children following in his wake.

"David, come now, let's go!" They were outside. "Now children, play nicely with each other."

**********

"Time to change costume," Holmes muttered to himself, in his bolt-hole in Le Havre.* He grabbed a new outfit and shaved off his beard. He then shot out of the bolt-hole.

As Holmes boarded the ship, he became happy that the ride across the channel was only an hour. But his stomach churned with dread at the thought of what might be awaiting his arrival to England.

**********

"Uncle Mycwoft, can we see Mummy?" asked Violet.

"No," said Mycroft. Violet was stunned; he had never refused her so bluntly before.

"Why?" asked Judith.

"Your mother is sleeping at the moment." At least that was partly true.

"Is she sick?" asked John.

"Yes, in a way," said Mycroft. "She is too tired to get up, and will feel better if she is left to herself."

"You're lying," said David, seeing right through him.

"It doesn't matter. You're not going to see your mother now." 

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*Note: The "bolt-hole" mentioned is used as a term for Holmes' hideaways in different parts of different countries that are hiding places for him when on the run. He also keeps many of his costumes with him there and much of his make-up when acting a part. 

I do hope everyone enjoyed this chapter. It'd be really encouraging if somebody actually reviewed these for me. I'd be truly grateful to you, you know. I do enjoy reviews. They make me really fired up for writing. I enjoy writing, but I'm not sure if people enjoy reading what I've written. Any type of feedback is seen in pure joy, even if you wish to criticize me to the utmost. I'd enjoy some scathing at the moment.


	5. At the Cottage...

Hello! I have been unable to update because I have been on vacation. The good thing: I had a nice time. The bad thing: I couldn't update anything! Here I am with chapter 5! 

Just a reader: I just finished reading Justice Hall. It was really really really good! I had a good time reading it. I just can't imagine Ali and Mahmound as Alistair and William Maurice. I'll never get used to it. I underline all of my favourite parts, and my book has at least some kind of scribble on every page!!!

Potterprincess: Thanks, once again. Man, I wish everyone were just a supportive as you! What would I do without you? Probably stop writing. Thanks a bunch!!!

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Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters except the children and Alexia Houston. Everyone else is owned by Conan Doyle or Laurie R. King. (God bless Laurie R. King!)

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Holmes dashed off the boat. He was glad that Sherringford was taking tomorrow's ferry. Now, he could get to Russell.

He took the quickest way to get to their cottage. Soon, he was at the front door. He burst in, scaring Mrs. Hudson out of her wits.

"Mr. Holmes! You're here!" was all she could shout out to him before he had closed the door to Russell's room behind him. He rushed to her side, aghast at what he saw. He knelt there, too stunned to speak. She was laying there, unconscious, and he had no idea what happened. He wasn't there for her. Nope; he had to get all sentimental and make an intricate vacation plan. He should have been with Russell. (A/N: That was from Holmes' point of view, just to tell you's all.)

He couldn't speak. He laid his hand on her bandaged one, not knowing what else to do. He could feel a very large lump in his throat that he tried to repress. He couldn't repress it. He let the silent tears fall. He could hold them back. He pounded the bed with his other fist in frustration: He could do nothing. He could not change anything. He was, for once, helpless beyond anything else he had gone through.

"Brother?" murmured Mycroft from the doorframe. Holmes couldn't answer; his mouth would not function for him, nor his tongue. After a few moments, Holmes regained his composure and responded to Mycroft.

"I will be fine, Mycroft. Just, I need to be with her alone."

"Of course," said Mycroft. "Of course." He stepped out of the room, closing the door behind him and telling everyone not to go in there for at least half an hour.

Holmes got off the floor and began pacing the length of the room. He could not figure out what had happened. Holmes snapped back to reality when he heard a low moan from the bed. "Russell?" he murmured. He was immediately back by her side.

Her eyes slowly opened, and recognition flooded her face. "Holmes..."

"Hey Russ," said Holmes. He brushed a stray piece of hair out of her face. "What happened?"

"Alexia...fight..."

"Alexia?" Holmes began to piece it together. "You had a fight with Alexia?"

"Mmhmm..."

"What about, Russ?"

"Her dad...other car...(groan)...in, in the accident..." Holmes let the information sink in. Alexia? Using Watson just to get to Russell? And fighting Russell to the death just because of an accident? Was this really that important to Alexia? What had Alexia lost in that other car, anyway?

He was, once again, snapped back into reality when Russell said, "Holmes?"

"Yes, Russell?" He took her hand in his again.

"...Dad...died...orphan..."

__

Ahh, that makes more sense, thought Holmes to himself. _Revenge, in a way. Reminds me of..._ he shuddered slightly in spite of himself.* _How could this happen? I should have been there for her. I should have stayed with her! _He soon stopped when Russell lightly pressed his hand.

"Holmes...don't..." She already knew what he was thinking.

"All right, Russell, I won't," he lied, trying to comfort her.

"Thank...you...is...Alexia...alive?" she asked weakly.

"I haven't checked yet, Russ. You get some sleep and I'll go and make sure."

"All right...Holmes..." She drifted off into sleep, her breaths shallow, but still, she was breathing.

He stood up, staring at Russell, his eyesight starting to blur. _No, Holmes, not now. It's time to grip reality and steady yourself. Russell doesn't need a crying husband. Anyway, I need to talk to Alexia_. He brushed back the sweat-drenched tendrils of hair from Russell's face. She had really struggled to talk to him. Just that one conversation took so much energy out of her.

He walked out of the room, but, from the door frame, he looked back at the prone figure one last time. Anger coursed through his body as he thought of the woman in the next room. She reminded him so much of another time...

__

"Miss Donleavy."

"What, Mr. Holmes, no bon mots? 'I perceive you have been in Afghanistan,' or New York? Well, not every utterance a gem, perhaps...

"Sit down, Miss Russell, Mr. Holmes, while I have this gun pointed at Miss Russell, would you be so good as to switch on the electrical lights?"

"This document is your suicide not, Sherlock. Rather lengthy, but that cannot be helped."

A suicide letter. Saying that I had not done anything to deserve what I have worked for, and that I murdered Professor Moriarty in cold blood because he took away my love. The document ended saying a profound apology to the public that I have wronged so many especially Professor Moriarty, the father of Miss Patricia Donleavy...*

He was snapped back into reality when he almost knocked into a nurse. "Oh, sorry," he said as he quickly dashed down the steps. "Mycroft!"

"Yes?"

"I know what happened. First thing we have to do is get Alexia as far away as possible and... DAVID, STOP EAVESDROPPING!!!"

"Eves what?" asked David.

"Stop listening to our conversation."

"But, Daddy..." David then realized it was actually Daddy. "DADDY!!!!" He ran up the stairs to his daddy and squeezed his leg so hard he thought it'd come off. 

"David, Daddy's a bit busy at the moment. Why don't you...umm...play follow-the-leader with Mrs. Hudson, hmm?"

"Okay, Daddy!" He ran from the room.

"You were saying, brother?"

"Yes, we've got to get Alexia as far away as possible. There's not any time for explanations right now..."

"All right, brother. Mrs. Hudson!" Mrs. Hudson came clambering up the stairs in the wake of three little children. (Violet was somewhere else...)

"Mrs. Hudson, we need to move Alexia from this house immediately."

"Who?"

"The girl with the black hair."

"Why?"

"There's no time for explanations," cut in Holmes. Soon, three children were upon him.

"DADDY!!!"

"Wait..." He counted the children. "Where's Violet?...Oh no!" Holmes knew exactly where Violet was.

**********

"Mommy!" There was no response. "MOMMY!!!" There was a muffled groan from under the covers. "Mummy? Awre you 'wake? Wanna hug?" There was another groan. "Owkays!"

The small body jumped on the bed. Russell didn't just groan now. Especially when Violet landed on her. It was as close to a shout as she could muster. Mycroft was in the room first (Holmes was still detaching himself from the three leeches, with Mrs. Hudson trying to help).

"I'll make you feewl bettew!" She hugged her mother. BIG MISTAKE.

"Violet!" commanded her mother. "Now!" Violet scrambled off, wondering what in the world had happened to her mother overnight and what she had done. "Violet, honey, come beside my bed."

Violet obediently came beside the bed, mainly cowed by her mother's explosion.

"Honey, Mummy's in a lot of pain right now..."

"Then kissies!" Violet was about to massacre her mother with kisses when Russell's voice stopped her.

"Violet, I need you to do something very special and important for me. Can you do that for your Mommy?"

"Yes!"

"Please give Daddy this message: She leaves. Now."

"Okay, Mummy!" She gave her mother a small, soft peck on the cheek, then ran out of the room, past Mycroft, and into her father's arms. The other three went in the direction Violet had just came from.

"Daddy, Mommy said that she leaves now."

"Okay, honey..." Realization hit then as to where the other three were headed for. "CHILDREN!!!" Too late.

**********

"MOMMY!!!!!" It wasn't Russell who stopped them this time, but Mycroft. He scooped all of them in his ample arms and deposited them outside the door. He closed the door and locked it from the inside before the children could stand back up.

"David, whewre did you put Daddy's pickwocks?"

"Wight hewe!" David pulled them out. "But, I dunno how t'use them yet."

"I do!" cried Judith. "I do it!" She fiddled with them for a while, trying to find the one she had used before when nobody was looking. She found it after a few minutes, then fiddled with the lock on the door. She almost had it when Holmes walked up.

"Go to Mrs. Hudson, now."

The four were beginning to wonder why everybody was in such bad moods lately. They had never acted like this before. What was eating them?

The trooped down to Mrs. Hudson, who was in the kitchen. (Poor Mrs. Hudson!)

**********

"Now, Russell," said Holmes (who had entered when the kids disappeared). "Is there anything you need before I go? I won't be gone long, I promise. Now, what is it you need?"

"Sleep."

"And...?"

"Quiet."

"Anything else?"

"A pain killer."

"I'm not your doctor."

"You've made your own pills for the last how may years?"

"No, Russell. Only if Watson comes over will I do that."

"But, Holmes..." she started.

"Well...no pills, but Ill get Mrs. Hudson to warm up some poultices."

"I'll need a clothespin, then." Well, at least she hadn't lost her sense of humour. "And a pair of glasses, please." Holmes had been wondering where Russell's glasses had gone to. "I think I broke them when I shoved the points into Miss Houston's eyes."

__

They really did have a battle to the death, thought Holmes. _At least Russell's still here. I wonder if anyone will have a conversation with Alexandria ever again?_

"All right, Russell. I'll be seeing you soon." He stooped down to kiss her forehead. She shifted her head so they met each other on the lips. Holmes was the first to stop. It wasn't out of rudeness, though. He'd love to just stay there for a while longer, actually, just stay by her side, but he had work to do, and Russell was counting on him. Anyway, she needed her rest.

"I love you, Russ."

"I love you too, Holmes."

He closed the door to her room. Mycroft left the room soon after.

**********

"David, whewe does this go?" Judith asked of her brother. She was referring to the secret passage she had just opened.

"Mummy's wroom."

"Weally? Le's go!" They left for Mummy's room. but, Hrs. Hudson saw them going in. She, of course, already knowing where all the "secret" passages went, left for Russell's rom to block off the pass.

**********

"Uncle Mycwoft! Uncle Mycwoft!" cried Violet. "Whewe awre you?"

"Right here, sweetie!" said Uncle Mycroft. "What is it, honey? What can Uncle Mycroft do for you?"

"Uncle, I wanna see Mummy. Pwease?" she had on her face the cutest puppy dog face. You know, the adorable sad puppy eyes...

"Honey," said Mycroft, his eyes averted from her face, "I can't. Your mommy's very sick and needs all the rest she can get."

__

Sheesh! thought Violet._ I'm giving him my cutest and he is still not giving in! Gwandma must have given him a scolding! Time for plan B!_

"But, Uncle Mycwoft..."

"Violet, I can't. Please stop." He rubbed his hands on his temples and sighed very heavily.

"But...but...Uncle Mycwoft!!!"

"Look, Violet, honey, Mummy's very sick, and she's in a lot of pain. She just needs to got some sleep. Anyway, it's your nap time."

"But, I always take nap wiff Mummy!"

"I don't think you do. She doesn't take naps."

"But she's wiff me!"

"Violet, please stop." Mycroft was about to blow, regardless that this was Violet, the favourite. "I have had enough. You are not going in there. That is final. Go to Mrs. Hudson; she's probably in the kitchen."

"All wright," mumbled Violet, tears in her eyes. "I'll...I'll go now..." She was crying. She headed towards the kitchen, at first. Then she slipped into a different passage. She opened it to see Mrs. Hudson dragging out John and David and Judith from the room. She waited until Mrs. Hudson was out of hearing range, and slipped over to her mother's bed.

"Hewwo, Mommy," she said quietly. "Umcle Mycwoft said you'we weally sick and tiwred, so can I swip next to yous?" Russell was skeptical, but then relented. "Owkay, Mummy!" She scuttled to the other side of the bed and slipped in, gently watching russell's arms and legs in casts.

Once she was snuggled up tightly to her mother (trying to avoid the casts), she said, "Mummy, wuv you."

"I love you, too, Vi."

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*Note: The two parts in the story with the * refer to a situation in The Beekeeper's Apprentice by Laurie R. King. This is when Russell and Holmes find out that they had been pursued by a woman named Miss Donleavy, who was really Professor Moriarty's daughter who had lived in New York. She tried to make Holmes sign a suicide letter about how he had used people to get to his position in the world by gunpoint. I won't tell you what happened there, though; you'll have to read what happens in the book. 

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I hope everyone enjoys the story so far. I haven't had much time lately, even though we just had spring vacation! Just so busy...anyway, 

HELP!!!!!!!!!!! I'm at writer's block; actually, I've got lots of different options open to me right now and don't know exactly which one to follow. In other words, I don't know if I want to make this more serious or more of the slap-your-knees-funny kind of story. Or to just let it flow, no matter how stupid the ideas are. Please R&R to help me decide!!!!!!!!!!!!


	6. The Doctor

Sorry it's taken so long for me to write this next chapter. I wasn't sure as to how I'd write this chapter. I was, mainly, at a writer's block. ::shivers:: I think writer's block is one of the worst things in the world to have. Especially when people want to read the next chapter of your story! I hope everyone likes the story!!! And I'm sorry, but this chapter's gonna be a short one! But that's okay! I think I actually have an idea for the next chapter!!!

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Disclaimer: Yeah, yeah, we know! I don't own any of the characters except the children and Alexia. But the plot is mine. Now let's get on with the story!!!

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Dedicated to:

snowwolf

just a reader

Your Worshipfulness

The Adler Sisters

Victoria Russell

You're the people that keep me writing this story! Even though it can be improved...by a lot...maybe I can get that straightened out at writing camp...

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"Mrs. Hudson, would you please make sure no one will disturb me for a few minutes?" shouted Holmes. "I need to make a phone call! It's very urgent!" Holmes left for the telephone before Mrs. Hudson could respond.

Holmes called Dr. Amberley, the ever-silent retired physician that lived nearby. "Dr. Amberley, please...Hello, Dr. Amberley?...No, I'm fine...it's about the dark-haired girl you took care of...I need to move her from the cottage for a spell...Is it possible for me to move her?...How far? It would be ideal if she could be moved out of the country...Doctor Amberley, she needs to leave...I can't tell you yet, but I need to get her as far away from here as is humanly possible...all right, not out of the country...Can I move her to a hospital in Surrey?...Fine...Good, good...thank you, Amberley." He hung up.

"Mrs. Hudson!" called out Holmes. "We'll be moving Alexia to a different town. Could you help the nurses get her ready?"

"Mr. Holmes, I have three children to take care of and one to find because Mycroft can't find any of them!"

"Violet," muttered Holmes under his breath, heading up the steps. He knew exactly where to find her. He opened Russell's door quietly and saw a scene he would loathe to disturb. Violet was curled up next to her mother, and both were sleeping peacefully. But, Holmes knew that Mrs. Hudson wouldn't allow the two-year-old girl to stay with her mother in bed. If Holmes woke Violet, though, that might wake up Russell...

__

I think I'll just face Mrs. Hudson's wrath, thought Holmes. _ It's never made me feel as guilty as when I disturb Russell when she's recuperating from an accident. I'll just have to pretend to be cowed in front of Mrs. Hudson. Again._ He quickly closed the door to Russell's room and told the nurse outside the door not to open the door to Mrs. Hudson until he went in again. The nurse nodded her understanding.

Holmes went downstairs, avoiding the children clambering up to him as much as possible.

"Mr. Holmes, would you please take at least one of your children with you while you go take Alexia to wherever you're taking her?"

"Of course, Mrs. Hudson. Now, who should I take?" The children clambered at his legs, clutching to him.

"I think I need to spend some time with my little Judith." He scooped her up in his arms. The other two pouted their way over to Mrs. Hudson. Mrs. Hudson scooped them up in her arms and said, "Let's go find your sister! I think she might be in a certain room with a certain girl named Mary."

"Oh, Mrs. Hudson, she's not in there. I checked." Mrs. Hudson scrutinized is face, trying to tell if he was joking with her or hiding something from her.

"Mr. Holmes..."  


"Yes, Mrs. Hudson?" Her fears were confirmed. He was hiding something in Mary's room and that something seemed to probably be a little two-year-old girl.

"Mr. Holmes, please step aside one moment."

"Now, now, Mrs. Hudson, Russell's fine."

She hesitated, then smiled wanly and said, "If you say so, Mr. Holmes." She decided it would be best to wait until Mr. Holmes was out taking Alexia to wherever he was going.

**********

Mycroft was walking outside in the garden contemplating the difficulties of little children and how hard it is to take care of them. _Why do I melt when I see little children? Why do I always keep giving into their will? And especially why Violet more than the others? True, she seems to be able to make her face show such pleading and innocence...she has too much talent as an actress...in a way, just like her father..._

He was jolted from his reverie when he spotted a familiar figure running up the road to the Holmes cottage. The man limped a bit, puffing heavily. Obviously not used to exercise. He had a greying mustache that used to be a brownish blond. No matter how long it had been since his army years, he still kept his handkerchief up his sleeve. His boots were mud-splattered, showing he was too much in a hurry and to preoccupied to wait for a cab.

"Mycroft...where...are...they?..." the mustachioed man asked, gasping heavily.

"Inside, Watson. But, John, you really need to rest," said Mycroft. _And not find out who is the other injured girl._

Watson was panting as he reached Mycroft, his face blanched to an unhealthy pallor. "What's happened I heard about Mary and Alexia..."

"Wait right here while I get something cold for you," said Mycroft hastily. Watson plopped down on a bench in the garden while Mycroft rushed towards the house.

"Mrs. Hudson!" he yelled. "Dr. Watson's here! I need him to..."

"Before you say another word, Mycroft, would you please take care of one of the children? The boys won't let me go upstairs!"

"Of course; now, Mrs. Hudson..." He stopped mid-sentence. A thought came to his head. He decided to leave Mrs. Hudson be and get the glass of water himself.

When he walked into the kitchen, he understood why she wanted him to take care of the boys. Jonathan was hanging onto her leg while David was pulling the drawers apart. He pried Jonathan from Mrs. Hudson and grabbed the glass from David's hands, which he was about to let drop on the floor. He filed the glass of water to only have it upset by Jonathan, who he was holding with his left arm. He filled the glass again, not noticing as it overflowed into the sink. He was too engrossed in the struggle between Mrs. Hudson and David to notice.

Mycroft's gaze was riveted from the scene by a splash of water on his face; Jonathan had gotten hold of the overflowing glass of water and splashed the water in his face.

Mycroft filled the glass of water again, this time making sure that Jonathan was unable to grasp the glass. He exited the kitchen via the kitchen door.

He walked out of the kitchen to the front lawn, where he saw Watson about to enter trough the front door. He quickly walked towards Watson and shoved the glass of water into his left hand and deposited Jonathan onto Watson's right arm.

"If you'll excuse me, Watson; I need to check on the girls. Please take care of him, and stay outside. It's too frantic inside." he finished his speech abruptly and hustled to the door, shutting it soundly behind him.

Watson stood there a moment, dazed. But only a moment. The next moment, he was chatting with Jonathan (A/N: The doctor's favourite!) and sipping his glass of water.

**********

"Sherlock!"

"Yes, Mycroft?" They were both on the stairs, each holding one end of Miss Alexia's makeshift cot.

"We need to take her out the back door."

"Why?"

"Watson's here." Holmes almost dropped Alexia. (A/N: If you have not realized yet, when I say "Holmes," I mean "Sherlock," okay? Not anyone else.)

"I would have thought he'd be inside checking on Miss Houston and Russell."

"He is taking care of Jonathan right now. Though I really didn't give him much of a choice there. Everything seemed to have been dropped on him."

They made it to the back door. But, before either Mycroft or Holmes could open it, the handle turned and opened. A man stood there, a little boy by his side.

It was Watson and Jonathan.

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What will happen? Will Watson go beserk because he sees Alexia? What will Jonathan's reaction be? What will Mycroft and Holmes' reactions be? When will Sherringford get here? When will Russell wake up? When will Alexia wake up? Well, I can't really answer these questions myself because I am not certain. Read and Review if you want to learn more. If you don't, just R&R anyway!!!


	7. The Doctor's Reaction

Oh my goodness I'm actually updating!!!!!!!! Scary, isn't it? I was looking at it a few days ago and said to myself, "Wow, it's been such a long time...I wonder why my written copy went to?" And now that I've finally found it, I have decided to continue on!!! It's kind of weird, and I'm a bit rusty, but I think this went pretty well. I wasn't sure how I was going to make Watson react, but I think I have the right idea...

Anyways, onward, ho!

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Dedicated to:

snowwolf

Patti

Andi Horton

Victoria Russell

HouAreYouToday

Susan

Thanks so much for your support and encouragement! And you know the disclaimer thingy like the back of your hand! So, without further ado, let's go!

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Violet woke up from her nap. She felt the sheets and remembered that he wasn't in her room, but Mommy's. And that Mommy was hurting really badly. She slid out of the warm covers, making sure she didn't wake up her mommy, and left the room via the hidden door. But, before she left, she kissed Mommy on the cheek very lightly and whispered, "Wuv oo, Mummy."

As she crept the short length of the secret passage, she was wondering about what her sister and brothers were doing. And worrying about what Mrs. Hudson would do if she found her...

She had a right to worry. David was covering as best he could for her, but it was starting to wear thin. After everything Mrs. Hudson had gone through with Holmes, in addition to the years she had had with the quartet before, she had become a very capable woman. So David found it very hard to keep Mrs. Hudson preoccupied, especially since Jonathan had just left him.

But, soon, David saw Violet tip-toe behind Mrs. Hudson. She was just about to jump on Mrs. Hudson when Mrs. Hudson turned around and spotter her. And what a sight Mrs. Hudson saw! For she was a mass of rumpled cotton and tangled hair. She was adorable.

"Well, Violet, and where have _you_ been?" said Mrs. Hudson, hands on her hips and eyes locked onto Violet's bowed head.

"M...my room," she responded.

"Oh, really? You weren't there the last time I checked on you. Or any of the other times I've been in that room looking for you."

"Went baffroom."

"Seven times in one hour, maybe?"

"David's room."

"I checked in there as many times as I checked in yours. You weren't there."

Violet thought, then asked, "Mommy and Daddy's room?" Mrs. Hudson just shook her head. "Attic?"

Mrs. Hudson shook her head again. "There's a lock on that door, and you don't have a key. I made sure of that."

She stood there, trying to think of some sort of excuse, but her mind as drawing a nice large blank.

Meanwhile, David had secretly moved into the shadows and maneuvered his way behind Violet. He was about to pounce on Mrs. Hudson when she turned abruptly around to see his little face looking up very guiltily into hers.

"And what, my young man, were you going to do?" she asked, her face beginning to go red.

"Umm..."

**********

They stood at the door, dumbfounded. This wasn't exactly what they had expected. They had been expecting (at worst) Mrs. Hudson still in the kitchen with David hanging onto her with Violet and Judith keeping Mycroft preoccupied. But a body being carried into the kitchen on a stretcher by Holmes and Mycroft? They were definitely not prepared for this.

Jonathan, getting out of shock first, walked over to his father. "Daddy, wha's under there?"

"It's nothing important, Jonathan," he said, a bit too quickly.

"Weally?" He decided to verify the matter by lifting up the sheets. Holmes and Mycroft tried to stop him, but they weren't quick enough. Jonathan lifted off the sheet...

**********

"Well, young man?"

"Umm...huggy!" And with that, he attached himself onto Mrs. Hudson's leg, hugging her tightly. He looked up at her face and smiled widely. "Wuv you, Gwandma!" He snuggled his face into the softness of her dress.

__

And I thought Holmes and Russell were the only ones that could melt my heart! she thought to herself as she looked down at David, his shiny blond hair reflecting the sunlight from the window.

**********

...to find Alexia Houston.

At first, Watson would not move. He was paralyzed in his place, unable to feel, thoughts trying to order themselves in his head.

"Daddy, who's 'at?" asked Jonathan. "Why she huwt?"

"Jonathan, she's a very old acquaintance of Mummy's and a friend of your Uncle John. She got hurt in a car accident and has been recovering from it for a long while. We're moving her out of the house to be better cared for in a hospital." Here, his eyes shot towards where Watson stood. "She will be taken care of there. Now, why don't you run along with Uncle..."

Just then, Judith, wha's taking so long?"

"Why don't you go along with Jonathan and he will tell you what's happening."

"But...Daddy..."

"Judith..." She knew that tone.

"Okay, Daddy." The two children walked of towards the kitchen door, their heads bent towards each other in "deep" discussion.

Holmes let out a sign. Now all he had to handle was Watson. "John..."

"Don't, Holmes," said Watson, bitterly. "Don't, please. I want none of your sympathy or stories. Just the truth."

Holmes had been more ready for Watson to have simply cried out and fallen to the floor. But his calmness worried Holmes more than a faint. Much more.

"All right, then," said Holmes. And he explained what had happened. He stared with the message and filled in as much as he could, not being able to tell him exactly what had happened because he wasn't very sure of the events himself. He explained how Alexia knew Russell before and about the fight. And then came the hard part.

"Watson, do you know how alexia knew where Russell was and how she found her?"

"Through me." He said it quietly, in a hushed tone filled with emotion, but it rang through the room. His head was held in his hands. He could feel his knees begin to buckle beneath him. He rested his hands on the counter next to him to steady his weakening knees. "I know, Holmes. I'm not so stupid as to not understand. I know she used me. I know, God dammit! And I'm regretting every bit of it now." He looked up at Holmes. His eyes were glistening with tears filled with sadness and grief. "I knew it was too good to be true. But I...I just did not want to believe it. I wanted it to last...she reminded me so much of my own Mary..." Here, he choked up. After a bit, he continued. "I wanted it so badly...so many memories came back...it was like I was reliving my time with Mary...I didn't want to let it go...But now" he said, his eyes now filling with righteous anger and a deep anger-filled passion, "it's over. I want to see justice done." 

And with that, he very slowly walked out of the kitchen and outside where the sun was shining and a cool breeze blew across them.

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That was a rather short chapter, I know, but it wasn't all that bad...was it? If you have any insight, please tell me!

I know, Watson is a little bit OOC, but it felt good to have him do that. Anyway, I'm going to add some more to this (and hopefully soon) which will include why Watson reacted the way he did. Just remember, he's an honourable man.

Please, read and review!!! Reviewing tells me if people like it or not! I'd love to have feedbacks!!!!! 


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